Bee's Magical Journey to Portland
The short version:
Dear Powell's Bookstore,
I would just like to let you know that you do, indeed, still own my soul and all the love I have to give.
Looking forward to sending you my first born,
Bee.
And:
Dear Portland Traffic,
Fuck you very much, okay? That is all.
Hate,
Bee.
So I went to visit my mommy and dad, for the first time since early March. I left directly after work (so, after dropping off Em and filling up my tank, I was on I-5 North by four), and of course the day I decide to make my long excursion is one of the worst days for traffic accidents that the Portland area has had in QUITE some time. The trip was smooth sailing until we hit about exit 270, where it all went to shit. I had to take the 288 exit, so yeah, 20 miles of stop and go, with the biggest freaking IDIOTS to whom the DMV, probably in some coke-induced poor-judgment fog, has actually given licenses. Seriously. One guy, who was merging? Drove ON THE SHOULDER after his lane had ended, so he could get like four cars further up. Yeah. Chew on THAT stupidity. And the bloke in front of me, in this swanky little convertible, kept fiddling with his cell phone and checking out his hair in the mirror, so he had like this six-second delayed reaction whenever traffic started moving again.
Bee: Dude, pay attention TO THE FRAKKING ROAD. You are not attractive enough to be checking your hair in your rear view mirror that often! Jesus.
And when I finally took my exit, and then the 16, I was faced with the last driving challenge: the eighty-five-degree-angle upward climb that leads to my parents' hilltop apartment.
The Beecar: I hate you. I hate you so much. No, I don't care that you shifted down to third. Drop dead and burn in hell. I hate you.
Fortunately, my car didn't get so pissed off that it overheated like last time, which was nice.
So I cuddled with my mom and fell asleep on the couch by nine, and my mom gently woke me up and lead me to my sister's room. Saturday consisted mostly of Internet (on their computer, as oddly my laptop could CONNECT to their Internet, but never acquired the network address, so my connection was effectively worthless), cuddling more with Mom, and then driving down to the store to buy Mom some groceries as opposed to just giving her the money I promised for my car insurance.
The Beecar: Haaaaaaaaaate!
Then we got ice cream. Then I fell asleep early again on the couch, and Mom once again lead me sleepily to my sister's room.
Mom: You were snoring and kind of drooling, so I figured: yeah, time to be in Katelynn's room now.
Sunday morning, we went to Powell's. I got to spend about an hour wandering about while Mom played cell phone games in the cafe and made fun of the bibliophiles. My mom has no class. I found a couple of people in the fantasy section, and we all geeked out over how awesome Neil Gaiman is and how much we wanted to have his babies (or, you know, have tea with him and get an autograph or something.) And then--I actually found The Sandman! Each volume was 20 bucks, so I only bought one, but still: Whee! And I found Mostly Harmless, the book Edict wanted me to find for her, but they just had a 20 dollar hardback, and between getting that and Preludes and Nocturnes, which I have been questing after for forever and a day? Um...sorry, Edict. I...love you?
The drive back sucked, though. The 204/205/whatever was congested in a MAJOR way, and a stretch of road that should have taken me fifteen minutes took me an HOUR, so before I even got to the biggest leg of my journey home, I started wanting people dead. Fortunately, once I got past Salem, NRQ started coming in again, and I sang along very loudly and angrily to everything that came on. I made "Hey There, Delilah" sound very intense and scary, I will tell you that right now. The other drivers probably thought I was nuts. And the other drivers? They know from crazy. Most of those bastards were going 90 and abruptly changing lanes without putting on a turn signal.
And now I am very tired. I'm going to read Preludes and wait to see if Edict gets on IM. *falls asleep*
Dear Powell's Bookstore,
I would just like to let you know that you do, indeed, still own my soul and all the love I have to give.
Looking forward to sending you my first born,
Bee.
And:
Dear Portland Traffic,
Fuck you very much, okay? That is all.
Hate,
Bee.
So I went to visit my mommy and dad, for the first time since early March. I left directly after work (so, after dropping off Em and filling up my tank, I was on I-5 North by four), and of course the day I decide to make my long excursion is one of the worst days for traffic accidents that the Portland area has had in QUITE some time. The trip was smooth sailing until we hit about exit 270, where it all went to shit. I had to take the 288 exit, so yeah, 20 miles of stop and go, with the biggest freaking IDIOTS to whom the DMV, probably in some coke-induced poor-judgment fog, has actually given licenses. Seriously. One guy, who was merging? Drove ON THE SHOULDER after his lane had ended, so he could get like four cars further up. Yeah. Chew on THAT stupidity. And the bloke in front of me, in this swanky little convertible, kept fiddling with his cell phone and checking out his hair in the mirror, so he had like this six-second delayed reaction whenever traffic started moving again.
Bee: Dude, pay attention TO THE FRAKKING ROAD. You are not attractive enough to be checking your hair in your rear view mirror that often! Jesus.
And when I finally took my exit, and then the 16, I was faced with the last driving challenge: the eighty-five-degree-angle upward climb that leads to my parents' hilltop apartment.
The Beecar: I hate you. I hate you so much. No, I don't care that you shifted down to third. Drop dead and burn in hell. I hate you.
Fortunately, my car didn't get so pissed off that it overheated like last time, which was nice.
So I cuddled with my mom and fell asleep on the couch by nine, and my mom gently woke me up and lead me to my sister's room. Saturday consisted mostly of Internet (on their computer, as oddly my laptop could CONNECT to their Internet, but never acquired the network address, so my connection was effectively worthless), cuddling more with Mom, and then driving down to the store to buy Mom some groceries as opposed to just giving her the money I promised for my car insurance.
The Beecar: Haaaaaaaaaate!
Then we got ice cream. Then I fell asleep early again on the couch, and Mom once again lead me sleepily to my sister's room.
Mom: You were snoring and kind of drooling, so I figured: yeah, time to be in Katelynn's room now.
Sunday morning, we went to Powell's. I got to spend about an hour wandering about while Mom played cell phone games in the cafe and made fun of the bibliophiles. My mom has no class. I found a couple of people in the fantasy section, and we all geeked out over how awesome Neil Gaiman is and how much we wanted to have his babies (or, you know, have tea with him and get an autograph or something.) And then--I actually found The Sandman! Each volume was 20 bucks, so I only bought one, but still: Whee! And I found Mostly Harmless, the book Edict wanted me to find for her, but they just had a 20 dollar hardback, and between getting that and Preludes and Nocturnes, which I have been questing after for forever and a day? Um...sorry, Edict. I...love you?
The drive back sucked, though. The 204/205/whatever was congested in a MAJOR way, and a stretch of road that should have taken me fifteen minutes took me an HOUR, so before I even got to the biggest leg of my journey home, I started wanting people dead. Fortunately, once I got past Salem, NRQ started coming in again, and I sang along very loudly and angrily to everything that came on. I made "Hey There, Delilah" sound very intense and scary, I will tell you that right now. The other drivers probably thought I was nuts. And the other drivers? They know from crazy. Most of those bastards were going 90 and abruptly changing lanes without putting on a turn signal.
And now I am very tired. I'm going to read Preludes and wait to see if Edict gets on IM. *falls asleep*